


Purē wa Koto desu : "The Play's the Thing"

by bittenfeld



Category: Japanese Actor RPF, Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger, Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger RPF
Genre: Friendship, Kissing, Light Suggestion of Male Slash, M/M, Swordplay, suggestive touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:19:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: Consider a hypothetical question:  Have you ever wondered if as writers, artists, actors, when we create, that we just might be causing our creations to actually be coming to life in some other dimension?  After all, “The Word” is the Creative Power, especially when backed by imagination, emotion, and focused direction.  Perhaps - just perhaps - it’s much more real than we have ever assumed.New - Chapter 4:  Rolling up his shirt sleeves, Marvelous stepped forward, cutlass in hand.  “My turn now, play-actor.”  A sharp light glinted in his eye, and Yūki could tell that the captain was obviously eagerly anticipating this.  He wondered if blood would be drawn...





	1. Chapter 1

“Who are you?!” Joe demanded of the man standing near, the man who looked just like his captain, but was not his captain.

“What d’ya mean?” the man grinned.  “C’mon, it’s time to go home.”

Joe frowned, confused.  Something very wrong had happened.  The last thing he knew, he and his teammates were in the forest, fighting the Zangyack Action Commander Maboro-Yume, who fired a laser-cannon blast at them; the next thing Joe knew, he was in this strange crowded city business lot bustling with people.  But even more disturbing was that next to him stood a man who looked just like Marvelous - down to the freckle on his upper lip - except that his aura didn’t feel like Marvelous's nor his scent smell like Marvelous's.  And he was dressed just like the Earth people around them.  Gone was the red coat and the black vest and the metal pendants and chains, replaced by jeans and t-shirt, ankle boots, and a thin gold necklace.

“You’re not Marvelous,” he insisted.

The man grinned oddly at him.  “Yeah – and you’re not Joe.  Now, c’mon, work’s over, change your clothes, get your things, and let’s go home.  It’s been a long week, and I’m beat.”

“These are my clothes,” Joe insisted.

With a little grin, the man looked at him, then shrugged.  “Well, okay, but the ladies in wardrobe are going to be upset if you take them so they can’t wash them and get them ready for the next shoot.”  He reached out a finger to snag Joe’s shirt; instinctively Joe pulled back an inch.  “They got kind of dirty in that last fight scene.”

Fight scene?  the next shoot?  What the hell was going on?

Now, replacing the grin, a concerned expression furrowed the man’s brow at Joe’s disoriented attitude.  “Hey, are you okay, Yū-chan?”

Joe looked askance.  Who was Yū-chan?  “My name is Joe Gibken.  Who are you?” he reiterated.

“Well, just your house-mate, your co-worker, and your best friend – take your pick.  What’s the matter with you?”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life,” Joe insisted – except, of course, as Marvelous, his bed-mate, his captain, and his best friend – and the similarity was so close it hurt.

The man turned a curious smile on him, as though trying to ascertain what kind of joke this Yū-chan person might be playing on him.  But Joe’s expression was completely serious and questioning, so the man just shrugged again.  “Okay, fine, whatever, Joe Gibken…”  Then gripping Joe’s arm, he started to pull him in the direction of the parking lot.  “C’mon, Yūki, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I’m taking you home.”

Joe allowed himself to be led, since he certainly had no idea where to go or what to do.  But at least he figured as long as he stayed close to this person who was not Marvelous but could be his twin, things might start making sense after awhile.

“Saa, Ryōta-san!” a middle-aged woman in a beige business jacket and skirt called from across the way.  “You two coming to the cast potluck tonight?”

The man, Ryōta – okay, now this not-Marvelous person had a name – looked back at her, but shook his head.  “Sorry, we can’t after all.  Yūki’s suddenly not feeling well, so I need to take him home, put him to bed, and fix him some chicken soup or something.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.  Well, see you in a week then.”

“Sure.  Ja naa…”

They finally ended up at a older-model dark-blue Toyota Camry at the far end of the parking lot.  As they started to drive away, the man looked over at him again.  “How _are_ you feeling?”

Joe nodded, getting a little bored with the run-around.  This was leading nowhere.  “I’m fine.”

“Who am I?”

“Ryōta.” – that’s what the woman had said.

The man nodded.  “And what’s your name?”

“Evidently it’s Yūki,” Joe responded a little dryly.  Then looking over at his companion, he announced, “You’re a play-actor.”

“Pin-pon!  So are you.  And I’ve gotta say, you’re doing a great job of acting right now.”

With a tiny shake of head, Joe turned his attention to gaze out the window.

The man stared at him for a moment longer, then gave up and turned his attention to his driving.

At least they were still in Tōkyō – Joe recognized the buildings.  But when he looked up in the direction where the anchored Gōkai Galleon should have been floating in the sky, there was nothing there.  Just empty air.  Well, that didn’t bode well.

“Did you get hit on the head in that last fight scene?” Ryōta inquired.  “I lost sight of you near the end.  Did something happen?”

Joe frowned trying to remember something – anything that might connect.  “No, I didn’t get hit.  The last I remember, Maboro-Yume fired his laser cannon in your direction.  I was thrown by the blast-nimbus but I didn’t hit my head.  The next thing I knew I was here.”

“You mean the special blast effect that’s going to be added later by the FX department?” Ryōta tossed back wryly.

Joe shot him an irritated glance.  “No – I mean the real blast that I got caught in.  Didn’t you see it?  I lost sight of you too just before, but you couldn’t have been that far away.”

The man behind the steering wheel sighed.  “I saw a really bright flash, but it was probably just the sun’s reflection hitting the big mirrors that the lighting guys had set up.”

“It wasn’t the sun,” Joe insisted, then thought to ask, “What about Gai and Hakase? Where are they?  Are they okay?”

“You mean Junya and Kazuki?  They’re fine.  They’re probably heading to the party. You’re the only one who’s acting weird right now.”

“If you want to go to the party, go ahead,” Joe suggested.  “Just leave me somewhere.”

Firmly Ryōta shook his head.  “No way.  I’m not leaving you alone.  Not until this is straightened out, and you get your memory back or we get some answers.”

Their destination turned out to be a small white house on the outskirts of the city.  “So this is where you live?” Joe observed.

“This is where _we_ live,” Ryōta corrected, unlocking the front door.  And pushing it open, he held it for Joe to enter, eyes on him to gauge his reaction.  “Anything look familiar? anything spur your memory?”

A glance around at the unfamiliar surroundings, then Joe shook his head.  “No, I’ve never been here before.”  Suddenly, without warning, he felt his ponytail grabbed and jerked.  “Itai!” he yelled, wheeling on the man behind him, fists raised, ready to fight if necessary.  “What the hell was that for?”

But his host was not in a fighting stance.  Instead he was staring stunned at Joe, his open hand poised in mid-air.  “It didn’t come off…” he murmured.

Joe glared.  “My hair?  _What_ are you talking about?!  What is going on…?!”

And then he saw the photograph on the wall that answered everything, and he couldn’t help but relax and quirk a tiny smile. 

The man in the picture looked exactly like him – except for hair no more than shoulder length.  The other man in the photo – Ryōta – had his arms wrapped around Joe’s twin, and they both were hamming it up ludicrously for the camera like a couple of loonies, just like the best friends that they obviously were.

Ryōta’s gaze caught the direction of Joe’s sight, and he could only stare speechless.

Smiling calmly, now that the tables were turned, Joe assured, “I think I can prove to you now that I’m telling the truth.”  And reaching up to his ponytail, he loosed the leather cord, to let the long black hair fall free halfway down his back, then announced the obvious:  “I’m not your Yūki.”

Ryōta couldn’t stop staring in stunned surprise, and now he was the one insisting, “If you’re not Yūki… then _who are you_ …??”

“I told you.  My name is Joe Gibken.  I’m the first-mate to Captain Marvelous aboard the Gōkai Galleon.  My friends and I are space pirates.  We’re also a Super Sentai team called Gōkaiger.”

“That’s crazy!” Ryōta retorted sharply.  “You can’t be Joe Gibken.  He’s just a made-up character.  The Gōkaigers don’t exist for real.  C’mon, none of that’s real!  It’s just a terebi show we act in.”

Taken aback, and getting more exasperated, Joe riposted, “What are you talking about?  Of course I’m real.”  A sweep of his hand indicated the house and the world around them.  “What’s not real is this, all of this.  What happened to the Zangyack we were fighting?  And where are my friends, and where’s my ship? and why do you look just like my captain, and why does your friend look just like me?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know who you are, but you’re crazy.”  And pulling out his phone from his pocket, Ryōta announced, “I’m calling the cops.”

“And what are you going to tell them – that you’ve got a fictional terebi character in your house you want them to arrest?” Joe suggested.  “You’ll be the one they cart off – not me.”

That interrupted Ryōta’s dialing hand.

“And if I’m no more than just some random crazy person, how is it that I look so identical to someone you spend twenty-four hours a day with, that you can’t even tell us apart?”

Unable to answer any of Joe’s questions, and tangled in his own disorientation, Ryōta just shook his head slightly, gaze registering confusion.

Abruptly his phone’s ring-tone interrupted, breaking the strange out-of-phase moment.  Glancing at the caller ID, he answered tautly, “Oi, Kei, where are you?”

“I’m heading out to the party, you at home?” the man on the other end replied.  “I was just calling to see if you guys wanted a lift.”

“I’m at home, we’re not going to the party – listen, Kei, I need you to get over here right now.”  Intently Ryōta’s frowning stare was locked on the stranger in his house standing near watching him.  “I’ve got a, uh, situation, and I need your help really bad.”

“Sure.  Is everything okay? anyone bleeding?”

“Just get your ass over here, and see for yourself.”

“Be right there, say, you want some dinner?  I fixed the ‘Hosogai Sashimi Special’ I was going to take to the party – I’ll bring it by.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.  I just need you here as fast as you can make it.  It’s really important.”

“Not a problem – I’ll be there so fast you’ll hear police sirens on my tail.  Jaa.”

Re-binding his hair, Joe indicated the phone by a nod.  “Another play-actor friend of yours?”

“Yeah,” Ryōta replied, partially distracted.  “We’re filming a TV show about the Gōkaigers,” he explained, trying to make some sense of the impossible situation enveloping them.  “I, um, play Marvelous… and, uh, Yūki plays Joe – you,” he stammered.  “But they’re just characters, you can’t be real… how can you be?...”

Joe rolled his eyes at the irrational pronouncement.  “I’m as real and as solid as you are.”

Ryōta stared directly at Joe’s face, desperately trying to read some rational explanation there.  “But that’s not possible…!  Flying pirate ships aren’t possible.  There’s no such thing as the evil Zangyack Empire.  Screenwriters just made all that up!”

Smiling a tiny humorless smile, Joe folded his arms.  “Well, then the only other explanation is that you’re having a very vivid hallucination.  I’m obviously just a figment of your imagination.”

Within five minutes the door buzzer sounded.  Ryōta opened the door for the visitor.

And Basco entered.

Well, hat-less Basco wearing ripped jeans, high-tops, and a sweatshirt advertising some pretty-boy idol group named D-Boys.

At the sudden sight of the hated familiar face, Joe felt ice surge through his blood and hot anger rise from his gut.  Vaguely he was aware that, off to the side, Ryōta was watching him sharply to ascertain his reaction.

“Oi, Ryō-chan,” the man greeted, totally oblivious to the weighted sub-context passing across the room.  Placing the plastic grocery bag with dinner in it on the kitchen counter, he inquired, “Everyone still alive, and in one piece?  I ran every red light to get here.  If I’d’ve gotten a ticket, I would’ve made you pay it.”

“Baka,” Ryōta retorted, placing a hand on top of his friend’s head, voice a light tone, though his countenance was anything but.

In return, Kei cupped a familiar hand on Ryōta’s bottom, then leaned in for a quick peck on the lips.  “So, what’s the emergency?  Hey, Yū-chan,” he greeted the other person in the room.  “Why are you in costume?  Are we having a dress rehearsal that no one told me about?”

Joe couldn’t bring himself to speak.  Firmly he forced down the coldness in his gut.  He didn’t mean to glower.  But even though this innocent man was just an actor, the face, the hair, the voice, were too close to the evil bastard he knew to be blithely overlooked.

“Oi, Yū-chan, why are you looking at me like that?”  Kei frowned in Ryōta’s direction.  “What’s wrong with Yūki?”

“That’s not Yūki,” Ryōta corrected him.

“It’s not?  I didn’t know he had a twin brother.”

“It’s his twin, but it’s not a brother.”

“Well, then a really excellent cosplay fan.  Wow, it looks just like him.”

“Not a cosplayer either.  Kei, meet Joe Gibken.”  Ryōta’s expression registered complete seriousness.

“Yeah – Yūki.”

“Not Yūki.  The real Joe Gibken.”

Joe’s expression was ice-cold toward the newcomer.

Kei tossed a little side smile at Ryōta that sent shivers skittering across Joe’s skin.  He’d seen that familiar smirk too many times before, and things always turned bad after that.

“Yeah, right.  April Fool.  Only this isn’t April.”

“And this isn’t a fool.  He says he’s the real Joe – and I’m starting to think he’s not lying.”

“Well, that’s impossible.  Oh, c’mon, what have you guys been smoking?  Umm, Joe and Marvelous and all of them aren’t real – you do know that, don’t you?”

“I know that – and that’s what I’ve been trying to tell him.  Only he won’t coöperate and be unreal.”

“I think I can remedy that,” Kei considered.  “Joe, how far back in your life can you remember?” he queried.

“I was a Zangyack soldier before I met Marvelous.”

“Yeah – before that.  What about your childhood?  how much of that do you remember?  Your parents?  any brothers or sisters?”

Joe frowned.  He thought – hard – but nothing came to mind.  This was ridiculous.  Everyone had a childhood.  What was his?

Kei was nodding.  “That’s what I thought.  You don’t have any memories beyond being a Zangyack soldier because the writers haven’t written anything further back for you.  You’re just a character in a TV show.  You’re not real.  So go on, just disappear back into the terebi where you belong.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense…” Joe protested unconvincingly.  Yet for the life of him he could not think any further back.

Ryōta glanced at his friend.  “What does that mean?”

“How should I know?”  Kei shrugged.  “It means we’ve all crossed over into the Twilight Zone.  Yeah, right, c’mon let’s have dinner and you can tell me all about whatever the real problem is you got me racing over here for.”

Moving into the kitchen, he helped himself to dishes and hashi from the cabinets and drawers, found some rice and left-over veggie stir-fry in the refrigerator, then took the sashimi, daikon, wasabi and ginger out of the bag, and served it up, placing the food artistically on each plate.  “The way you sounded on the phone, I thought maybe you and Yū-chan had finally gotten into a knock-down drag-out, and I was going to arrive to a scene of blood and body-parts scattered around.  So, what’s up?”

Commandeering a kitchen chair and slouching into it, arms folded in a very Marvelous-esque pose, Ryōta inquired, “When was the last time you saw Yūki out of costume?”

Kei was fishing three bottles of Kirin beer out of the refrigerator.  “Umm, I wasn’t at the studio this past week, so yeah, last Saturday, when we all hung out together.  Why?”

“And how long was his hair then?”

At that, Kei looked up.  “Huh?  What kind of question is that?  Okay, I’ll play along.  It was shoulder-length – like it’s always been.  So? the ponytail’s just a fall, we all know that.”

“Sure, we all know that,” Ryōta agreed, then glanced sideways toward Joe.  “Oi, Yūki,” he urged.  “Show Kei what you just showed me.”

With a tiny half-smile, Joe obligingly untied his hair again, and the long tresses fell loose once more.

And Kei frowned.  “So, is it full hair extensions now?”  In curiosity, he had to look closer, and stepped around Joe to lift up the long hair and let it run through his fingers.

Joe didn’t particularly like having this Basco twin behind him and especially touching him, but it would be worth it to get his reaction.

“It’s not even hair extensions,” Kei noted in surprise.  “This is his real hair.”

“Yeah, and it was shoulder length just this morning when I helped him fix the fall, like I do every morning.  So if you can explain how Yūki’s hair could grow from shoulder length to the middle of his back in one day, I’ll be more than happy to agree with you – believe me, I _want_ to agree with you.  Then we can all just forget about it, and sit down to a nice dinner.”

Kei was staring at Joe in stunned disbelief.  “But that’s not possible.”

Joe gave him the benefit of a tiny smirk.  “You’re right.  It’s not.”

“It’s Yūki’s face and Yūki’s voice…”

Ryōta moved up closer to the two men.  “But it’s not Yūki.”

Kei frowned at him.  “Okay, what’s going on?  Who is he?”

Ryōta just smiled coldly, with a shrug.  “We’ve already told you.”

“Yeah – the real Joe Gibken.  Only there’s no such thing, so obviously Yūki has a twin brother that he’s never gotten around to mentioning before, who did let his hair grow.  That’s all it can be.  It’s just a joke.  Now come on, just drop it, and let’s eat, or go the party.”

Abruptly Ryōta frowned and wheeled on his friend.  “Dammit, Kei, does it look like it’s just a joke?  We were filming the end of a fight scene.  He was Yūki then.  Then when we finished up and were getting ready to go home, he wasn’t.  There wasn’t time for him to be replaced by some mysterious ‘twin brother’!”

“Well, what’s your explanation?”

“I don’t have one.  He says he was fighting the real Maboro-Yume with the rest of the real Gōkaigers, just like the scene we were filming at the same time.  We both saw a bright flash of light, and that’s when he said things changed for him – whatever that means.  He’s been just as confused about me looking like Marvelous as I am about him looking like Yūki.  And he recognized you as Basco the instant you walked through the door.”

Now it was Kei’s turn to shift a curious questioning gaze on the strange alien version of their friend.  But then exasperation and irritation usurped his attitude.  “Oh, come on, what’s the matter with the two of you?!  Have you lost your minds?  Have you really forgotten who each other is?  Characters can’t suddenly come to life.  There’s – _no_ – _such_ – _thing!_ ”

Ryōta remained calm.  “ _We_ know who each other is.”

“Oh, _come_ _on!_   Now you’re really freaking me out.”  He started pacing, strolling in the direction of the front door

“You’re not leaving, are you?”  Ryōta urged in concern.

“No way,” Kei promised, turning back.  “I’m staying right here until either we figure this out, or I get the both of you admitted into a nice safe institution.  All right, I can’t explain about Yūki’s hair, but of course it’s Yūki.  It can’t be anyone else!  And Yū-chan, you _really_ have to get out of character now.  And change your clothes!  I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but this has gone too far!”

Turning a blasé expression on the other man, Joe retorted, “And you’re too caught up in your set version of reality, that you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.  _I’m_ not your Yūki.  The length of my hair proves that.”

Then Joe realized something so obvious that he should have thought of it before.  “Sit down, both of you.  I think I can prove myself to you beyond a doubt.”  From inside his jacket he pulled out his changer and blue Gōkai key.  “Do you know what this is?”

“Sure, it’s a Mobilate.  They’re props we use all the time.  You can buy them in any toy store.  Don’t tell me, you’re saying that one is real?”

“It is.”

“And you can really henshin,” Kei muttered in disbelief.

“I can.”

And then capturing the two men’s rapt attention, Joe went through the henshin motions so familiar to them – with one huge difference.

“Gōkai Change!” Joe called, twisting the key in the changer’s keyhole, then thrusting the Mobilate before himself.

And in front of the other men’s startled eyes, the changer flashed as it only did for them after the FX department added the CG.  Then out of nothingness, layer-by-layer, the Gōkaiger outfit formed around Joe’s body.  And when it was done, helmet, weapons, and all, the real Gōkai Blue stood before their dumbstruck expressions.

For a lingering delay, Ryōta and Kei both sat in stunned silence, staring at the impossible but very real sight before them.  Kei sat pushing back stiffly against the back of the couch.  Then, “Sugoi!!” both men cried out in startled excited near-unison, once they got their voices back.  “How did you _do_ that?!” Ryōta insisted, eyes wide with amazed astonishment.  And he had to reach out to pluck at the shiny blue material of Joe’s sleeve.

Finally Joe powered down, and the blue Gōkaiger wisped away back to nothingness.  “Well, I’m glad you believe me now,” he drawled wryly.  “But you know, there’s something you haven’t considered yet:  If I’m here – then where is your friend?”

Ryōta and Kei stared at each other in dawning concern.

“Oh shit…” Kei said.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mercilessly the man in red glowered at the bound figure on the deck of the Galleon.  “All right, who the hell are you, and why do you look like my Joe?!”

 _to be continued_ …


	2. Chapter 2

“All right, who the hell are you, and why do you look like my Joe?!” the familiar voice demanded furiously.

Lying on the main deck of the Gōkai Galleon – the real Gōkai Galleon – his hands bound behind his back, Yūki squinted up at the glaring man in the long red pirate coat hovering over him.  It should have been Ryōta, but it wasn’t.  And this wasn’t in any script.

Strong fingers clutched his jacket collar, roughly jerking him up a little.  “You’re a Zangyack spy, aren’t you?” this Captain Marvelous yelled just a few inches from his face, dark eyes blazing in a searing rage as Yūki had never seen from Ryōta, and it scared him more than a little.  “Did Warz Gill send you?  Do the Zangyack think I’m so stupid that I wouldn’t instantly recognize an impostor from my own first-mate?”  A hard shake banged Yūki’s head on the floor, making him wince.  “And where is my Joe?  What have you done with him, you bastard?  If you’ve turned him over to the Zangyack, so help me, I’ll rip your intestines out inch by inch!!”

By the intensity of his voice, he was speaking quite literally.  Yūki cringed, heart pounding.  This was not the Marvelous he knew.

“Well, speak up for yourself,” the captain snarled, “before I throw you bodily off this ship!  And if I don’t like your answers, I’ll throw you off anyway!”

And Yūki considered, if this was anything like the fiction that the writers wrote – and it probably was – then they were high in the air, and he would be hurled to his death.  Fear sweat beaded on his face, dribbled down his skin in little insect tickles.  His mouth had gone dry as he drew tight trembling breaths.

Callously Marvelous shoved their prisoner back to the deck, then strolled several steps away to his great-chair.  Then seating himself, knees crossed and fingers tented, he awaited an answer.

Nervously Yūki looked around himself.  Standing nearby watching him were people who should have been his friends, but who stared at him like he was a stranger – and of course, he was.  Ahim and Luka – he tried to overlay Yui’s and Mao’s expressions – Hakase and Gai… they looked identical to the friends he knew.  And yet there was something different in the eyes.  A distance… a suspicion.  Well, that was to be expected – he was just as much familiar yet a foreign stranger to them.

“I… don’t know what to say…” Yūki admitted, voice trembling.  “I’m not Joe… but I’m not a spy either.  I’m an actor.  I play in a terebi show about…” – about you all, he wanted to say, but that would sound ridiculous.  Nevertheless, it would explain his appearance to their shipmate.  And only the truth might save his life.  “… about all of you, and fighting the Zangyack, and searching for the Ultimate Treasure of the Universe.”

That made Marvelous sit forward attentively, eyes narrowed sharply.  “How do you know about all of that if you’re not a spy?  And besides, a terebi show about us?  That’s stupid.  Who would do a thing like that?!”

Yūki sighed.  It wasn’t helping.  In fact, he was digging himself in deeper.  But now he had to keep going if he was going to make any sense at all.  Again he tried to swallow past his dry throat.  “It’s the truth.  I play Joe, my friend Ryōta plays you… and my other friends…” – nervously he glanced around again at the pirate crew watching him intently – “…play the rest of you.  And I don’t know how I got here.  We were filming a fight scene, there was a bright flash, and the next thing I knew I was here.  I can’t explain it, but there’s nothing else I can tell you.”

“Marvelous-san,” Ahim spoke up.  “Why do you think it’s not Joe-san?  Maybe he fell and hit his head in that fight.  When Maboro-Yume fired at you, remember, there _was_ a bright flash and Joe-san was thrown by the blast.  He could just be injured and have amnesia or something.”

Yūki almost smiled.  That was the kind gentle princess he knew, trying to defend him.

But Marvelous’s cold expression didn’t thaw.  “It’s not Joe,” he retorted abruptly.  “He doesn’t feel like him or smell like him.”

Of course.  The fictional (or not so fictional?) Marvelous and Joe were lovers – and a lover would pick up on a hundred minuscule discrepancies from his partner.

Luka squatted down by him, a sharp look in her eyes.  He’d seen Mao get that look in filming when confronting a bad-guy or a monster – he’d never had it directed at him, and certainly never for real.  “Well, at least he doesn’t smell like a Zangyack either,” she noted.  “But that doesn’t explain who he is.  He still could be working for them.  Now, forget that load of crap you just gave us.  In case you didn’t know it, we’re pirates.  And as pirates, we don’t like it when someone tries to unload a pile of bullshit on us.  Even if you are a play-actor, there’s no reason you should look exactly like our Joe.  The only reason for doing something like that would be to infiltrate our ship.  That’s punishable, and Marvelous _should_ throw you off.”

Then yanking his head by the pony-tail – that was something Mao had never done either – suddenly she frowned.  “What’s this?” she questioned curiously, examining his hair.

Yūki slumped.  He was done for sure now.  She had discovered the pony-tail was just a fall.

Deftly she untied and unpinned the false hair and pulled it loose, eliciting a few surprised murmurs around the room.  Then holding up the long tresses, making a face as if it were road-kill in her hand, she proffered it to Marvelous.  “Well, that proves he’s not our Joe.  It also proves he's trying to pass for Joe.”  Then directing her attention at Yūki again, she demanded, “All right, stop sounding like an idiot, and tell us the real truth.  Or we _will_ kill you.”

“No…wait! please!” Yūki insisted, voice quivering, another push of adrenalin flooding through his veins.  This was as close to death as he’d ever come.  His gaze, bright with fear, shifted between Luka and the captain.  “Really.  It’s not what you think!  I don’t know how I got here.  I don’t mean to be here.  Please just let me go,” he begged desperately.  “I won’t bother you ever again.  I promise…!”

“Well, we can’t do that,” Marvelous announced flatly.  “You’ll either convince us that you’re harmless, or you’ll die.  Those are you’re only choices.”

 “But I don’t have anything else to tell you,” Yūki admitted helplessly.  A droplet of sweat ran down between his eyes, itching as it trickled down the side of his nose.  “Except that where I come from there’s no such thing as the Gōkaigers, or the Zangyack Empire, and pirate ships can’t float in the sky.  Please believe me!”

“You just said you were doing a terebi show about us.”

“Yes, and it’s all fiction.  You’re not supposed to even exist – none of this is.  Script writers made all of this up.  That’s all I can explain.”

Marvelous looked bored.  “Well, your explanation’s not good enough to save your life.  This is getting stupider by the minute, because obviously we do exist.  And you’ll find out just how real it is when I throw you off the ship!”

A tiny helpless sob broke from Yūki’s trembling lips.

“Well, I believe him,” – that was Ahim coming to his rescue again – “… well, at least a little,” she amended as the rest of the crew looked at her reproachfully.  “Marvelous-san, please don’t hurt him – if there’s a chance he’s telling the truth, then he’s probably very disoriented right now, and threatening him isn’t helping.  Give him a little while to calm down, and then maybe he’ll be able to tell us more.  And please consider, if he _is_ telling the truth, then he may not be our Joe, but he’s somebody’s Joe.  He has to be if he looks like that.  And if his friends are like us, they probably miss him very much.  And besides, if something happens to him, we might never be able to get our own Joe back.”  Gently she smoothed his mussed hair.

Silently the pirate captain considered for a long minute, intense glare spearing the man on the floor.  Yūki could only breathe a quick desperate prayer.  And wondered:  if he died in this fictional world, would his death be real?  He imagined that the answer could very well be yes.

Finally, grudgingly, Marvelous relented, “Fine, I won’t hurt you – for now.  A spy trying to infiltrate wouldn’t come up with such a ridiculous half-assed story.  Still, maybe you’ve convinced Ahim that you’re harmless, but you’re going to have to do a lot more talking to convince me.”  Then rising from his chair, he strode back to their prisoner, and dragged Yūki to his feet by the jacket front.  And in doing so, felt Yūki’s phone in an inside jacket pocket, and appropriated it; carelessly tossed it onto the little table near his chair.  Then in the other side-pocket, he found the prop Mobilate and blue Gōkai key.  “What’s this?”  A frown turned into a raging teeth-bared snarl.

And suddenly Yūki’s blood chilled as he realized that he might very well be dead in the next minute.

Angrily a strong fist twisted the jacket collar viciously tight, shook him brutally.  “Bastard!  How did you get this?!  You took it from Joe?  _You goddamn bastard!!_ ”

“No!” Yūki gasped desperately.  “Please!!  It’s not real! it’s not real!!  It’s just a prop we use!  A fake.  It doesn’t really work.  We can’t really henshin into Gōkaiger!  We just pretend.  Don’t kill me!”  The tightening grip around his throat nearly choked his voice off.  “We’re not real!  None of it’s real.  Please…!”

“You _pretend_ ,” the pirate captain sneered in disgust.  “While we’re fighting for our lives for real, you’re just pretending!”  Casually he tossed the key and changer to Don.  “Hakase.  Tell me if this is Joe’s.”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Don responded.  And twisting the key in the keyhole of the Mobilate, he went through the henshin position.  “Gōkai Change!”

Nothing happened.  Not even a tiny flash of blue light.

And in a little sob Yūki released the breath that he hadn’t realized that he’d been holding.

The blond pirate dropped the apparatus onto his work-bench.  “Yeah, it’s fake.  He’s telling the truth.”

A taut snarl.  “Well, that just saved your life, play-actor.”  Then roughly manhandling Yūki around, Marvelous announced, “All right, pretender, I’m taking you to my cabin and leaving you there for awhile until I decide what to do with you.”

Roughly Marvelous pushed him toward the stairs and marched him down, a fist twisting the back of his jacket collar.  Yūki staggered, legs like rubber, and only the grip on his jacket kept him from tumbling down the steps.  At the bottom he hesitated, looking both ways down the hallway which led off to six rooms – two doors on either side and one at each end.  These would be the crew’s quarters down here, and possibly the two end ones belonged to the captain and first-mate, but Yūki wouldn’t know which was Marvelous’s and which was Joe’s.

“What’s the matter?” Marvelous snapped, jerking him sharply.  “Don’t you know where my cabin is, play-actor? You said that you know all about us.”

“We don’t ever show the lower deck,” Yūki acknowledged.  “This hallway just goes off the set.  There’s nothing down here.”

“Well, then, that’s something else that proves we’re real, doesn’t it?”  

Then shoving him down the right-hand hallway, he pushed Yuki to the door at the far end.  And opening it, Marvelous shoved him inside and entered himself, then shut the door behind them.

The room was just as Yūki imagined the set designers would have created it.  A little less than sumptuous – Marvelous was more pragmatic than the kind of leader to wallow in luxury – but well-appointed, a haven from the demands of duty.  A heavy red coverlet lay half-off and crumpled on the unmade bed; the carved woodwork – bedstead, wardrobe, bookcases – a rich cherry, all gilt-edged.

And something else besides the unmade bed which did not surprise Yūki at all:  clothes tossed about, books carelessly tumbled on a table, a scattering of trash on the floor.  He could guess it was as in the television world – Hakase, upon first arriving on the Galleon, and finding the living space a dump-heap, had taken it upon himself to straighten up and clean the ship spic-and-span, but he would never have presumed upon the captain’s quarters.

A cutlass hung on the wall within easy reach from the bed; Marvelous saw Yūki’s gaze notice it; and in two strides he reached it and took it down.  Then brusquely shoving Yūki around, he pushed him down roughly to kneel across the bed.

Yūki could only sob a little whimper and close his eyes, tears leaking, as he waited for the blade to fall.  He wondered if Ryōta and the rest of his friends and family would ever learn what happened to him.

Instead the blade just sliced the ropes binding his wrists, quickly yet without scratching even a drop of blood from his skin.  Stiffly Yūki rolled over to sit on the floor, his back against the edge of the bed, and looked up at his jailer.

Glaring at their prisoner, Marvelous raised the sword point to touch Yūki’s chest.  “You’ll wait here until I come back.  And if you mess up anything in here, I’ll cut your hands off – understand?”

“Yes…” Yūki nodded nervously, rubbing his abraded wrists.  “I promise…”

“I don’t care about your promises,”  Marvelous interrupted bluntly.  Then lowering the blade, he moved toward the door, catching Yūki with a sharp side-glance.  “I’ll be back in awhile.  I hope by then you have a better story… play-actor.”

Then he stepped out and closed the door, and Yūki heard the lock click.

Trembling with an overload of adrenalin, he dropped back on the bed.  What in god’s name had happened?  He remembered the tremendously bright flash when someone in the lighting crew was shifting the large mirror, and for just a moment it caught the sun, momentarily blinding Yūki – so bright that he could even feel the heat radiating from it.  Ahim mentioned a flash, so whatever had happened, it had occurred at that moment.  And when he got his bearings again, he was here, hog-tied aboard this ship.  Could such science-fiction ideas as dimensional shifts actually occur for real?  Had he switched places with the real Joe Gibken?  Had Joe Gibken been suddenly thrust into Yūki’s world at the same moment?  It was crazy to think about, but there was no other explanation – rational or irrational – that he could think of.

And how was he going to get home?  In stories it was always some genius engineer/scientist who at the last moment, in the face of the climactic danger, managed to whisk everybody to safety.  What if he was stuck in this world forever?  what would he do?  Try to survive as best he could, he supposed.  Although the more likely scenario would be that he died here very shortly – and probably by Marvelous’s hand.

The fictional character he knew as Marvelous talked rough, but not dangerously so; this man, the real Marvelous, was probably quite dangerous.  This captain meant exactly what he said.  And Yūki considered that this Marvelous was no doubt quite capable of killing without a qualm if it was to protect his ship and his crew.

But after awhile, the trembling finally calming down, Yūki sat up and gazed about his surroundings.  A marine chronometer on the night stand – the timepiece looked like a valuable antique – read 19:42.  He wondered if that had been adjusted to Earth time; after all, they must have used a different measure of time as they sailed through space.  If it was, then that meant almost three hours had passed since the dimensional shift, although it didn’t seem like nearly that long.  Maybe time had shifted too; after all, there was a block of time missing, from the fight scene in the forest when the flash occurred, to finding himself bound on the deck of the Galleon, with nothing in between, at least that he remembered.

His gaze alit on another object on the nightstand: a silver ball about five inches in diameter with a glass lens on top.  As he leaned closer out of curiosity, suddenly the ball activated, shooting a wedge of light from the lens at the top.  Abruptly Yūki jerked back, hoping he hadn’t done something that would give Marvelous a reason to amputate his hands.  However, nothing seemed damaged, so he leaned closer to observe.  Inside the wedge of light glowed a holographic image of a younger smiling Marvelous standing next to AkaRed. Yūki could guess this was probably a very dear memento to Marvelous.  In fact, this cabin had no doubt originally been AkaRed’s, and pieces like the antique chronometer had probably belonged to the older man.  No wonder Marvelous guarded them so vigilantly.

 _to be continued_ …


	3. Chapter 3

Tossing the phone onto the bed, a photo displayed, the pirate captain demanded, “Explain this.  Why does this joker look like me?”

It was a picture of Yūki and Ryōta mugging for the camera, Ryōta’s arms wrapped around him in a bear-hug.  It had been taken months before, shortly after filming had started, when the two of them had gone off to Disneyland Tōkyō for the day. 

“How did you get into my phone?” Yūki insisted.

Marvelous just rolled his eyes.  “It took Hakase less than 30 seconds to break in.  Just answer my question – who is he?”

“I’ve already told you – he’s my friend who plays you on TV.  His name is Ryōta, and he’s my roommate.  So then you’ve probably seen the other pictures too of everyone else – that ought to prove what I’ve said, we all look like you guys.  I can’t explain it,” he reiterated.  And then he had to ask the question that was raw on his mind.  “Are you going to kill me?”

The captain looked right at him, gaze serious but benign, no threat remaining.  “No,” he replied simply.  “Whatever you are, you’re not a threat to me or my crew.”

“Am I still a prisoner?”

“No. You’re free now.”

Yūki nodded.  Maybe he could finally relax.

Marvelous stepped closer, still eyeing him.  “Ahim thinks you’re from an alternate dimension – is that right?”

Yūki shrugged.  “I suppose that’s as good an explanation as any.”

“If you’re here, is my Joe in your place?”

“Probably.  That’s usually how those plots work.”  He was getting tired.  The strain of his captivity, plus the unreality of this entire situation, was stretching his suspension of credulity to the edge.  But he would still play along.  “If that’s the case, at least you don’t have to worry about his safety.  There’s no Zangyack Empire where I come from.”

“All right,” the captain acknowledged succinctly – Yūki noting that the man wasn’t given to over-excitement even when finding out his lost companion was safe.

“I just want to go home,” Yūki murmured.  “I just don’t know how I can ever…”

“Hakase will figure it out,” Marvelous assured in the first show of sympathy.

Hakase – oh yes, the genius scientist/engineer.  If anyone could find a solution, he could.  And finally Yūki felt a glimmer of hope.

“So,” Marvelous considered, quickly dismissing the inexplicable irrational for the matter-of-fact pragmatic, “if you’re going to be on my ship and part of my crew for awhile, then tell me:  what good are you?  Can you fight?  And how good are you in bed?”

At that, Yūki shot a tight look at his ex-captor.  “In bed?  You’ve got the wrong idea.  I know Joe sleeps with you, but I don’t sleep with Ryōta.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not like that.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you have to be ‘like’ in order to share pleasure with a friend?  So what about your friend – is he ‘like that’?”

“Yes, but...”

“Does he want you?”

“I suppose.  But he doesn’t need me.  He’s got another friend he fools around with whenever he wants.”  And Yūki didn’t think it particularly judicious to mention that the other friend was Basco's look-alike.  To hear that his twin was sleeping with the enemy might not go down well with this Marvelous.  Until suddenly Yūki realized to his dismay that among the photos on his phone were lots with Kei, and lots of those were of Kei and Ryōta draped all over each other as usual - the "Tako Twins", friends called them:  one body, eight limbs.  Yet hopefully, without the signature granny-shawl outfit and hat and effeminate make-up, Marvelous wouldn’t notice Kei’s similarity to his hated betrayer.

Unfortunately that was too much to hope for.

“Basco,” Marvelous scowled, his countenance shadowing again, dark and dangerous.

“It’s not Basco,” Yūki insisted, quickly trying to defuse the tense situation, even as anxiousness flooded adrenalin into his bloodstream, and made his heart pound.  “His name is Kei – he’s an actor, and he’s no more Basco than I am Joe, or Ryōta’s you.”

At least, whatever anger Marvelous was feeling was sublimated coldly, even as he demanded,   “Why do you allow that?  Since you’re there, why do you let him turn to… that bastard?”

Yūki’s expression tightened reactively.  “I don’t ‘let’ him.  I’ve got no hold on Ryōta.  And Kei’s a good friend to both of us.  And it’s none of my business if they want to sleep together.”

“If he wants you, you should go to him.”

“I’m not interested, and he knows it.  I doubt he’s disappointed; if he is, he hides it pretty well.”

“Well, while you’re on my ship, you’ll be in my bed.”

Yūki frowned.  “It doesn’t work that way.”

“This is my ship – it does work that way.  You’ve done something to my Joe, somehow you’ve taken him away.  And as long as he’s missing, you’ll take his place.  I’m not sleeping in an empty bed.”

“I haven’t done anything with your Joe,” Yūki announced flatly.  “And you can’t force me to sleep with you.”

“I’m not forcing you.  You’re free to leave – I said you’re not a prisoner anymore.”

“Fine, then let me go.”

“All right.  But if you do leave, how do you plan to survive if the Zangyack or Basco captures you?” Marvelous mentioned sharply.  “Just remember, you’re living in our world now.  You say they’re not real in your dimension, that it’s all pretend to you.  Well, they’re very real here.  It’s life-and-death to us.  Try telling the Zangyack that crazy story that you’re not really Joe, but just a play-actor from another dimension, while they’re tearing out your fingernails – or worse.  And it won’t make any difference at all to Basco anyway, while he’s got you chained up and is raping the hell out of you.  In fact, he’ll probably get a kick out of it, fucking Joe’s look-alike.  So it’s your choice, but you better think about it hard.”

To that, Yūki had no answer.  He knew how cruel and ruthless the enemies were written as fictional characters – he had no desire to meet them in real life.  The alternative of sleeping with another man was not exactly his preference; nevertheless, given this whole irrational situation, he supposed it was tolerable.  He didn’t care for it, but it wouldn’t kill him or destroy his masculinity.

He sighed.  “Then I guess I’ll stay,” he relented.

“Fine,” Marvelous acknowledged.  “You’ll have the protection of myself and my crew.  But the other thing is, you’re a liability to me unless you have something to offer.  I have to take the trouble to look after you and keep you safe, and you’ll be eating our food.  So I’m asking again:  what good are you?  And can you fight?  If you can’t, you’ll have to stay on the ship.  I can’t guarantee your safety if you go ashore with us and the Zangyack attack, and you can’t fight.”

“You don’t need to coddle me,” Yūki retorted dryly.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck here, but as long as I’m here, I’ll do my part, I’ll earn my food,” he assured.  “And don’t worry, I can fight.”

“Can you fight unarmed? can you handle a sword?  Joe is a master swordsman.”

“So am I.  And martial arts.  I’ve fought in tournaments, and won championships.”

Marvelous reached out.  “Show me your sword hand.”

Obligingly Yūki held out his right hand for the captain’s inspection, and Marvelous traced his touch over the palm and finger calluses there.  “Just in tournaments?” he questioned.  “Have you ever actually fought for your life against real enemies?”

“No,” Yūki admitted.  “I’ve never had to do that.”

“I’ll test you tomorrow,” Marvelous announced.  “See how good you are.  Then _I’ll_ decide how much I need to coddle you.”

* * * * *

Joe was sitting on the living room couch polishing his cutlass when Ryōta returned from the market with two armloads of grocery bags.

Ryōta set the bags on the kitchen counter.  “There,” he announced cheerfully.  “We’ve got enough food for the three of us for the week.  Kei will be back in a little bit – he’s just gone to get what he needs from his place, then he’s going to stay here with us.  That way, one of us will be with you at all times.”

“Is that really necessary?  I don’t need to be coddled,” Joe reminded.

“Well, you’re a stranger here, you don’t know your way around.”

“I think I can figure things out,” the Galleon’s first-mate remarked dryly.  “Remember, I’m a soldier as well as a pirate.”

“Yeah, but what you’re going to have to be is Yūki.  I don’t know how long you’re going to be here, but if it’s more than a week, we can’t keep hiding you.  It’s a godsend we’ve got a break from shooting for the next week, but after that, you’ll have to go to the studio with us when we go back to work, and people will be expecting Yūki, not Joe Gibken.  And you’ll have to learn how to act.”

That earned a side-long glance.  “So, I’ll have to _pretend_ like I’m Joe Gibken for your terebi program.”

“Yeah.  Do you think you can do that?”  Ryōta grinned at the humorous irony.  “Don’t worry, I can let you know what to do.  And I’ll rehearse with you, if you’re willing to pretend I’m Marvelous.”

“And Kei?”

“He’ll help too.”  Ryōta looked at their guest and saw intense feelings in black eyes.  “Kei bothers you, doesn’t he? because he looks like Basco.”

Joe didn’t answer, but returned his attention to his sword.

“Please just keep in mind,” Ryōta reminded, “Kei isn’t really Basco.  He’s not at all like Basco.  He’s a nice person, he takes care of his elderly grandma.  And anyway, he’s a good friend.”

At that, Joe did look up, a dark wry expression on his face.

– and Ryōta realized what was going through Joe’s mind:  that Marvelous had truly believed that Basco was a good friend too – until the ultimate horrific betrayal.

“Well, he’s not going to betray us,” Ryōta insisted.  “And anyway, there’s nothing to betray us for.  There’s no Greatest Treasure, there’s no Zangyack Empire here.  All of that’s just…” – fiction, he was about to say.  But that concept didn’t sit well with his guest.

Nevertheless Joe heard the unspoken word.  He wiped his blade with a cloth.  “Basco is very real in my world.  And he has hurt Marvelous in many terrible ways.  I will never forgive him.”

“Look, I know he’s hurt you too…”

“That doesn’t matter.  But for what he’s done to Marvelous, he deserves to die.”

Ryōta indicated the sword in Joe’s hands.  “Well, I hope you’re not planning on using that on Kei…”

A dry smile tugged at Joe’s lips as he shook his head.  “Not Kei…”

The problem, which neither of these play-actors realized, and couldn’t realize – and Joe didn’t particularly feel like enlightening them right yet – wasn’t just that Kei looked like Basco, minus of course the effeminate pink-tinted lips, shadowed eyelids and eyeliner.  After all, Ryōta looked identical to Marvelous, but Joe had no trouble separating them.  The problem was that Kei _smelled_ liked Basco.  A spicy cinnamon faint-peppery scent, unique and unmistakable.  Joe didn’t know yet if that was relevant or not, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down around the man.

Instead all he said was, “Well, if I have to pretend I’m myself, I just hope your Yūki is able to convince my captain that he can be a pirate.”  

 _to be continued_ …


	4. Chapter 4

“All right, play-actor,” Marvelous announced, tossing a cutlass to Yūki out on the grassy field where they all stood, “show me how good a swordsman you are.”

Easily Yūki caught the weapon.  And noted that it had the same weight and heft as the prop weapons they used on the set – with one vital difference:  this one had an edge.  Any mistakes or missteps would prove bloody.

Yūki fought them all, sword against sword with Luka, sword against spear with Gai, hand-to-hand with Ahim and Hakase – double-teamed by them, and both of whom were faster and tougher than their fictional counterparts that Yūki was familiar with.  There was no holding back with any of them.  At least Yūki noted that their fighting styles were very close to those of his co-workers, which gave him a lot of familiarity, as he and the other five cast members often sparred together during down-time to give more realism to their on-camera fight-choreography.

He knew he was being tested to his limits, allowed no more than a minute between bouts.  And these weren’t just tournaments bouts – these were all-out fights, as hard as could be thrown at him.  This was no game, there was no referee, no action-director on the set.  They were attacking with all they had, giving no quarter, and Yūki felt like he really was fighting for his life.  But it was necessary, and he knew it – if he couldn’t succeed here, then he wouldn’t be able to get through a real fight against the Zangyack.  And if it came to that, he could very easily become a liability to the crew if they had to defend him while fighting for their own lives.

Finally, rolling up his shirt sleeves, Marvelous stepped forward, cutlass in hand.  “My turn now, play-actor.”  A sharp light glinted in his eye, and Yūki could tell that the captain was obviously eagerly anticipating this.  No doubt this would be the roughest, hardest fight of all.

“Luka.”  Speaking to the girl in yellow, but without even glancing in her direction,  Marvelous held out his free hand for her to toss her sword to him, which he caught as easily and casually as if they were part of a well-rehearsed drill team.

Don proffered his own cutlass to Yūki.  “Here, play-actor.”

So this was to be dual-sword against dual-sword.  Yūki was glad he studied batto-jutsu for years to the point where he could beat just about any opponent, his skill was so precise and fast.  He had won just about every tournament he’d ever entered, with highest marks from the judges that they’d ever given.   However, dual-swords was not any event in a tournament.  But because of that, at least he and Mao had often practiced together.  Unfortunately, he and Ryōta hadn’t spent much time at it, so Yūki wasn’t quite as familiar with Marvelous’s dual-sword style.  No doubt this would prove quite educational.

For a moment, the two duelists faced each other, motionless, each trying to gauge the skill of the other.  Carefully Yūki circled to the left, while Marvelous’s gaze followed him sharply.

Abruptly Marvelous leapt forward, the blade in his right hand hissing out for Yūki’s face, the left slashing for Yūki’s flank.  Both cuts Yuki parried expertly, then thrust for the left side of his attacker’s chest.  Easily Marvelous blocked with a cross-parry of both swords, then lunged in again, high and low.  Yūki blocked the left high-cut and slipped past the right low, moving forward, rather than stepping back, and simultaneously bringing his free blade across to Marvelous’s neck, their hilts clanging together as Marvelous had to bring his right blade up to parry, swords locked together, guard to guard.  And that forced the captain back to break the corps-à-corps.  He grinned, obviously delighted, then stabbed out for Yūki’s middle.  Adroitly Yūki managed to dodge the blade. Suddenly Marvelous leaped forward, attacking Yūki with a flurry of head and flank cuts.  To break the rhythm, Yūki stepped back, and when Marvelous’s blade fell short of the expected target, Yūki lunged in for his stomach.  Expertly Marvelous retreated a step, caught Yūki’s blade in a half-arc parry, then thrust toward his left shoulder, which Yūki deflected sharply.

For several seconds the cutlasses clashed wildly, exchanging a fusillade of strokes, neither fighter gaining ground, until Yūki’s blade ripped Marvelous’s sleeve, drawing blood, and the pirate jumped back, his eyes glinting with a tight smile.

But the stroke broke Yūki’s momentum – he hadn’t meant to injure his opponent – and he hesitated.  And that was a mistake.

Because Marvelous didn’t hesitate, suddenly lunging at his challenger, jumping forward with a barrage of attacks.  Off-kilter, Yuki retreated, blocking the assault, then almost stumbled over a patch of uneven ground.  Marvelous’s thrust caught him unprepared and slit through his shirt.  He glanced down, startled, and his opponent surprised him with a cut to the neck.  Again Yūki blocked it, but his timing was off.  As long as Marvelous had the advantage, he was making the most of it.  The blades in his hands lashed out for Yūki’s cheek, Yuki's legs, but Yuki managed to parry both.  And quickly regathering his concentration, he attacked Marvelous’s face.  Jumping back, Marvelous avoided the cut, then feinting toward Yuki’s shoulder, suddenly disengaged under Yuki’s guard and thrust for his breast.  Yuki tried to pick up the blade with a circular parry, but the captain evaded the attempt.  Desperately Yuki warded off the glinting edge, and riposted with a quick feint-slash to his attacker’s shoulder.  But he was feeling the drain now.  After so many battles in succession, he was nearing the end of his energy and he knew it.  Chest heaved for breath, sweat dribbled wetly down the channel of his spine, tickled like little insect feet between his eyes.  He might be too slow for Marvelous's next attack.

As Marvelous parried the assault, Yuki leapt back.  Savagely Marvelous’s blade hissed out in a wild slash, and Yuki jumped back again, his blade poised for a quick cut, if Marvelous pressed the attack.  Instead, Marvelous dropped his guard, and grinned, eyes bright and sharp, the suspicion and threat finally dissipated.  “You’re as good as you say,” he acknowledged appreciatively.  “Maybe even better than Joe.”

Joe reached toward the blood-stained gash on Marvelous’s shirt-sleeve.  “But your arm… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“That?”  Marvelous glanced down at the wound, dismissing Yūki’s concern with a casual huff.  “I didn’t even notice.”  And clapping a hand on Yūki’s shoulder, the pirate captain admitted happily, “I’ll think we’ll get along after all, play-actor.”

And then it was over, and Yūki was exhausted.  Then with their captain’s approval of the newcomer, the crew surrounded him with friendly hugs and slaps on the back, and he was accepted into the crew.

* * * * *

“Remember,” Ryōta murmured to Kei, “he’s a special-forces soldier and a real pirate, and he’s got a sword.  So whatever you do, _don’t_ piss him off.  You know he doesn’t like Basco.  And I’m not sure he fully trusts you yet.  ”

Kei nodded.  “Yeah, I, uh, kind of got that feeling too.  By the way,” he mentioned dryly, “thanks for warning me when you called me over, letting me walk in cluelessly on someone who hates my guts and wants to kill me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ryōta apologized, not very convincingly.  “But I needed to see his reaction without either of you being warned ahead of time.”

“Yeah, well, thanks a lot.”

“Sorry,” Ryōta apologized again, no more convincingly than the first time.  “Hey, at least I got him to promise not to turn you into the Hosogai Sashimi Special.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.  My obā-chan would really miss me.”

“Yeah, and I’d miss you too – at least a little bit.”

“Yeah, where would you find another sucker to sleep with you?”

“Mm, sucker… and you do it so well…”

Pulling Ryōta close, Kei slipped both hands into the backside of Ryōta’s jeans to squeeze bare flesh, while tongues eagerly invaded wet mouths.

But then Ryōta saw Joe look their way as he walked past, a frown creasing his brow.

With a little pat to Kei’s behind, Ryōta pulled away from the intimate play.  “Mm, I don’t think we should be doing this in front of Joe.  It probably bothers him to see Marvelous sleeping with the enemy.”

But Joe just shrugged and continued on his way.  “You’re not Marvelous.  And it doesn’t matter to me who you sleep with.”

Ryōta followed him.  “Listen, we know you and Marvelous are lovers.  And you probably miss him a lot right now.”

Joe barely cast him a glance.  “That shouldn’t matter to you either.”

“Well, it does.  And, well… Kei and I have been talking about it…”

“So?”

Ryōta had to fight the urge to look down shyly at his feet, as though Joe were a much older man, rather than someone his own age.  “Well, y’know, even though you sleep with Marvelous, Yūki doesn’t sleep with me, and…”

“And you want to know if I’ll sleep with you instead?”

At that Ryōta looked up directly at their guest.  “Well, yeah… and Kei was wondering too… although you probably don’t want…”

“Yes.”

A hopeful but questioning expression crossed Ryōta’s face.

“Yes, I’ll bed you – both of you,” Joe announced levelly.  “Although I can’t guarantee it’s what you expect.  I’m not your Yūki.”

“That’s okay – I mean, great, thanks!”  The questioning look shifted to delight brightening Ryōta’s eyes; and Joe surmised that he’d probably desired his straight friend for quite some time.  It was something Joe could easily do – it didn’t mean anything to him, but it would mean a lot to this man, even if Joe was just a surrogate for his friend.

Then Joe looked over at Kei who stood back aways watching them.  Interest but also caution colored the gaze of Basco's twin.  Joe had a different reason for agreeing to sleep with him.  He hadn’t given Kei any reason to respond with excitement, and Joe didn’t feel anything either.  But taking the man to bed would give him a good reading to see if any trace of the real Basco overlaid the play-actor.

 _to be continued_ …

**Author's Note:**

> Two hidden references: D-Boys is a stage group that Yuki Yamada used to be a member of.  
> And regarding Kei's line, “Everyone still alive, and in one piece?" - Gōkaiger was loosely based on the pirate anime/manga "One Piece".
> 
> Oh, and for anyone who hasn't heard or noticed, the name of Basco Ta Jolokia is a pun: reverse "Basco" and "Ta", and you get Tabasco. And Jolokia is a type of pepper used in hot sauce ( - an extremely hot pepper, its other name is "ghost pepper"). So that's why I mentioned that his scent is very spicy! ;)


End file.
